Quarantine

There’s an odd sense of peace

That comes with a month at home, nowhere else

There’s not a place we must rush to now

No sitting and stewing in the midst of all the cars

That clog up the road, clog up our mind 

With that undeniable rage

There’s an odd sense of peace 

That comes with a spare moment

To lay off the mounds of homework and paperwork 

Now, we can work, on all the things 

We were too busy for, once upon a time

When the world rushed along, as if there were no tomorrow